


The Hitchhiker from Heia

by Koe



Category: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Original Work
Genre: Gen, Ghosts, Hitchhiking, Horror, Norwegian Mythology & Folklore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 04:17:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10325429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koe/pseuds/Koe
Summary: Over at mfu_canteen, spikesgirl58 asked the question: "So anyone have any good ghost stories?" - Well of course!





	

Not far from here; in Troms - above the Arctic Circle in the very north of Norway - there's a windswept mountain pass called Heia. The steep, winding road through there is sometimes closed off by snow storms in the winter. The only human settlements are tiny cabins used for skiing tourism and a small Sápmi summer tent camp, deserted in the winter months. (The Sápmi is an indigenous people from the north of Scandinavia.)

The winters there are bitterly cold; -30º F is more common than not, and the only light you see in three month long polar night, on clear skies, is the moon, the stars and the flickering blue-green-pink Aurora Borealis. Driving through there on a late winter night can - understandably - be spectacular, but a lonely and even frightening experience, especially when the weather is rough.  
  
But sometimes you just got to do what you got to do. And if you see a lonely hitchhiker standing there by the road, in dark contrast to the twilight of snow-dunes and snowflakes glittering in your headlights; you will both pity the poor guy freezing his ears off and feel some very heartfelt relief from seeing another human being.  
  
You hit the breaks, going 90 kmh and discover that the wind and cold has polished the road face into a slippery slope and end up driving fifty meters past him before you come to a halt. He runs to catch up with you and heaves for air as he throws himself into your back seat. You turn and smile at him and he smiles back: a pretty young man with blonde hair and blue eyes, healthily red in the cheeks and with eyelashes glittering from frost.  
  
He thanks you warmly, with obvious relief in his voice and you can certainly understand that. Staying out in the extreme cold the way he's dressed: with just a jacket and a cap on for outerwear and no mittens or lined trousers it can become deadly fast. And you ask him, a little reproachful; what the hell he was thinking going out hitchhiking on this desolate road at this time a night? And he answers sheepishly that he was going to see his girlfriend, but lost his ride much further down the valley and have been walking all the way here not to freeze to death. You shake your head and smile at the follies of young love, and turn the heater up to max, because you can see he's shaking back there, teeth rattling in his skull.  
  
You start up again and the two of you keep talking about this and that, the weather and him being lucky, until the wind picks up and starts to drag snow drifts across the road. The visibility gets lower and lower until you barely creep along and the shine from whirling snowflakes against the heavy dark void makes you tense up; your eyes water and your head starts throbbing a little.  
  
You still drive on and on and slowly, but steadily, the weather lifts and you can see from the surrounding mountains that you're soon out of the mountain pass and thankfully that much closer to home.  
  
Then your eyes rise to the rear view mirror and your words to the meaning of "Finally through!" fails to come out of your mouth as you can't see anyone back there. You quickly turn around to take a closer look, but no, it is empty, there is no-one to see and a person couldn't fit in the tight space right behind your seat. Could they?  
  
The backseat light is broken and you're too spooked right now to really want to find out, so you repress the sob that is forcing its way up your throat and keep your eyes stiffly on the road and well away from the rear view mirror. You drive and drive, frozen by fear, until you see your own outdoor light: the wonderful yellow light of _home_ up ahead and a sob lets itself out and you wake from your trance with a start.  
  
You drive up to your house with a roar from the engine and you grab your bag from the front seat, leap out and slam the car door behind you. And you just want to go in, to your wonderful, safe and warm house, but then you linger at the first step. You take a deep breath, put your bag down and turn to the car.  
  
No pale and hollow eyed face is looking back at you from the backseat window. You tell yourself that you are acting ridiculous and forcibly make yourself step over to the car before you jerk open the backseat door. Nothing. No-one. But. Isn't that... You lift your hand - it is shaking - and let your fingers run lightly over the seat. There's icy droplets on it. And a spot that is bitterly, frighteningly, cold to the touch.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: This is a well known ghost story in these areas: "Haikeren på Heia" that has been documented in at least two local lore collections, with references to a young German soldier who is supposed to have tried to desert his troop during WW2; to escape in this country so foreign to him, only to be found dead in the snow not much later.
> 
> I have shifted the perspective from the versions I myself have read, but tried to honor the original tale. Hitchhiker stories are pretty common as ghost stories go, but I think the Heia environment is especially fitting for this rural legend. I also think this might contribute to the story's popularity up to this day.
> 
> Originally posted [on LJ October 25th, 2015](http://eve-n-furter.livejournal.com/92750.html).


End file.
